This is Peanut on any given day, trying to coax my her lazy sister, Greta, into playing:
This is Peanut today:
She's been throwing up for two days, she's lost four pounds, and she has ZERO interest in the ball.
There is something wrong with my Peanut.
$500 later, the x-rays show nothing foreign in her stomach, we're still waiting for the blood test results, and the vet says if she's not better by this afternoon she needs to be put in the hospital.
I can't think. I can't work. I'm worried about my Peanut.
I hope when I return from carpool, she barks at me and drops wet, disgusting balls at my feet.
Then I'll know my Peanut is back.
The quiet is killing me.
(Remind me of that next time I complain about her boundless energy, k?)
* Update. It's 5pm. She's baaaack! When we returned home from carpool, Peanut dropped her tennis ball in my daughter's lap and barked. And barked. She made it on a walk around the block and is now roaming the backyard. No evidence of sickness anywhere. I'm crossing my fingers. Thank you everyone for your concern. So appreciated. Here's my baby now.
